Saturday, December 23, 2006
First Winter Run
It was 10 degrees when I set out for my run this morning, but I was prepared. I dressed in running tights and layered tops, gloves, and my pink “flower power” fleece headband—guaranteed to raise my spirits, if not my head’s temperature, just at the sight of it. (Thanks, DeDee!)
This was my first run outside of the official winter season. Despite the cold, I disdained an indoor treadmill workout. The sun was bright and there was not even the faintest of breezes. The streets were relatively empty. Last night’s snow glittered in the sun and dazzled my eyes, and inspired feelings of appreciation for the simple beauty of nature.
I felt a little cold as I started, and the footing was slick at the corner of my street. I ran on anyway with confidence, knowing I would soon be warm from exertion, and that the slippery road was not unfamiliar ground. Keeping my balance while trying to maintain some speed requires focus and poise, but I relish the added challenge. A run on an icy road is my lightweight version of an extreme sport. “Man (or woman) versus Nature”, I thought, recalling an English class discussion on types of conflict.
I found my customary music distracting, and turned it off. It was quiet, except for the rhythmic crunching of the snow beneath my feet, and my equally rhythmic heavy breathing which formed mist in front of my face. I fell into a smooth, steady cadence that even the slippery street couldn’t upset.
Sometimes running just feels right. It’s a zone, without stress or strain, tension or tumult, fuss or flurry. Today I ran in that exhilarating zone. Sun, and cold, and solitude combined to provide a singular feeling and space that allowed me to freely contemplate matters of consequence.
“All is calm. All is bright.” It was peaceful. It was perfect.
Do be careful on those slippery roads. Even familiar territory can quickly become unfamiliar.
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